


TAJRISH, TEHRAN, IRAN––2009

by sergheied



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 17:14:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19114162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sergheied/pseuds/sergheied





	TAJRISH, TEHRAN, IRAN––2009

Two girls stood in front of a mirror.  
They were both young, probably in their early 20s. One of them––the shorter one––was putting on lipgloss. The taller one was adjusting her bra under her dress. They were wearing stiletto heels, and ass-brushing mini-skirts.  
“Niloufar, will you get our chadors?”  
Niloufar, the younger of the two, grinned. She took the shapeless, black garments from the hook by the door and handed one to her friend.  
They left their house indistinguishable from the rest of the women on the street. They took a cab to the Northeastern part of the city. Their rich friend Reza was throwing a party for anyone who was anyone in Tehran. Niloufar and Parvaneh weren’t anyone, but they’d gone to school with Reza when his family lived in Tajrish. Reza was way nicer than most of their other friends. His dad made it rich in the oil industry; and when he told them his family had bought some villa in Elahieh, they all thought he was going to turn into one of those rich assholes and never talk to them again. He still texted them every day, and sometimes they’d even meet for coffee. He just said he and Niloufar were married to make things convenient.  
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀  
Niloufar was the “enlightened” one in the group.  
She was twenty-two, and just back from four years in university. She’d lived in France, and ever since she got back, she’d been filling Parvaneh’s head with stories of sex and fun and walking outside without a rousari or chador. In her haughtiest voice, she bragged to her friend (who didn’t have a passport) about how sex wasn’t a secret, and how she could walk alone at night, uncovered, without fear or suspicion. Parvaneh almost didn’t believe the stories at first. She thought Niloufar had made up some Utopia, but Reza told her it was true. Parvaneh started crying when they assured her it was for the seventy-sixth (Niloufar had been keeping count) time.  
Parvaneh wasn’t as innocent as she let on. She was a virgin, but only in the Iranian sense: her hymen was still intact. She’d had oral sex by fifteen, and anal sex by eighteen, but her family was conservative and she knew they would check her hymen when she got married. Niloufar and Reza felt bad for her—they both had other options.  
Niloufar had been married before, so it didn’t matter if her hymen was broken, and Reza didn’t even have a hymen. Neither girl thought he understood the gravity of a potential hymen-tearing. He said it was no big deal. Parvaneh didn’t talk to him for days.  
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀  
Niloufar stares out the window of the cab, watching as Elahieh unfurled around them. They were now in the world of the rich and famous.  
For about a week, they had been scared to go out because of the protests, but after one of Niloufar’s friends had been killed by police, she became more defiant, and less afraid. Her nails were painted green, even though it was dangerous. Parvaneh thought Niloufar was cool for being so rebellious. She wanted to be like her.  
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀  
Reza’s house was almost intimidating. It was so big—a modern villa—and all the lights seemed so bright. A servant answered the door, but this servant had a tuxedo, not like Niloufar’s family cook. He took each girl’s chador at the door. Niloufar tied a ribbon to hers so she could tell them apart. Parvaneh scurried upstairs behind her. They began to giggle.  
Reza was known for his parties. The music was always loud, the alcohol was always flowing, and the sex was always good. For Niloufar, it was always more difficult to find a partner than Parvaneh, as she wasn’t a virgin (in the traditional sense). This somehow made guys uncomfortable. She decided not to tell them after a while. Too complicated.  
Upstairs, there were probably fifty young Tehranis all in various stages of undress. Reza was drinking wine and talking to some guy when the girls arrived. He ran over to greet them. Niloufar was distracted by some tall guy. He was holding a bottle of liquor. She walked toward him, and they struck up a conversation, and in five minutes they’d left the room.  
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀  
He rubbed up against her, kissing her neck in the hallway. She liked that he was classy. He didn’t just fuck in the main room like everyone else had been doing. At first she thought it was weird he wasn’t joining everyone on the floor, but she appreciated the one-on-one. They stumbled into a bathroom, and she pulled off her dress while he fumbled with the zipper of his pants. She decided not to tell him she wasn’t a virgin. He thought she was—she could tell. He suddenly got very gentle when he took off her underwear. His movements weren’t as desperate as before. She almost laughed, then pressed her hips against his. He chuckled, and she grabbed onto the sink, moaning like they did in the movies. She didn’t think he was very interested, but she could tell he was enjoying himself—maybe a little too much, considering how little pleasure Niloufar was taking from the experience—so she wanted to play into the fantasy. If she acted like she was enjoying it for long enough, maybe she really would. She was just bored.  
“Was that your first time?” he asked her, and she pursed her lips.  
“Hm,” she said. It wasn’t an answer, but it was enough for him. He thought he’d taken her virginity, and he was satisfied. He put his clothes back on, and left her there, panties on the floor, wearing nothing but a skimpy bra she’d bought in France. She put on her clothes slowly, staring at herself in the mirror all the while.  
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀  
She took no pleasure in this gathering. Once she was dressed, she joined Reza and Parvaneh on a balcony. Reza was smoking. Niloufar took the cigarette from his mouth, then took a long drag. The butt was stained with her lip gloss when she handed it back.  
“Enjoying yourselves?” she asked in her normal, haughty tone. Both shook their heads. She nodded.  
“Why do we even do this?” Parvaneh asked. “The whole point is to have fun, but I don’t think anyone here is having fun.”  
Reza sighed.  
“I don’t know,” he said. “It’s sad, I guess. Sex doesn’t mean anything anymore. We’re just having it to have it, I guess. We have it here because the Gasht-e-Ershad can’t catch us. It’s a stupid form of rebellion when our brothers and sisters are dying in the street.”  
“Someone in France said we’re having a sexual revolution here,” Niloufar snorted. “If it is a revolution, it’s a stupid one. It isn’t any better than the Islamic Revolution. It took something good and took all the meaning out of it and made it worse.” Parvaneh nodded.  
“I’m going to get married,” she said suddenly. Niloufar and Reza nodded. They congratulated her.  
“He’s a Doctor,” she said. “He is going to get us out of Iran. I’m getting a passport tomorrow. We’re going to England.”  
“That’s cool,” Niloufar said. “I can visit you sometimes.” They fell into silence. Reza gave Niloufar his cigarette.  
“I’m going to tell everyone to leave.” He left the balcony. Niloufar felt naked. She was embarrassed.  
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀  
“This isn’t freedom,” she told Parvaneh.  
“I know. Freedom is whatever you want it to be.”  
“Yeah.” Niloufar paused to take a drag of her lip gloss-stained cigarette. “Do you think we’re sluts, Parvaneh?”  
“Not really. I don’t think so. You might be. I’m a virgin.”  
“Hm. I guess you’re right.”  
Niloufar held the cigarette between her teeth, and rested her chin on the heels of her hands, staring down at Tehran. She loved the view from Reza’s house—she could see all the city from here. It was beautiful, but it felt so foreign. She almost couldn’t recognise it. She knew she had to leave soon. She would go back home, then back to Paris. She wouldn’t return.


End file.
